Sweet Water Falling
by Sweetwater Gal
Summary: The raindrops aren't the only ones falling...


**Sweet Water Falling**

Author: Sweetwater Gal... aka me! *big grin*

Rating: Uh... trust me when I'm making it **PG-13**...

Teaser: The raindrops aren't the only ones falling...

Disclaimer: I still do NOT own every single thing that is JoA related. LOL It's all a part of Barbara Hall's imagination, and CBS-Sony entertainment. I also unfortunately do not own the classy hottie Patrick/Price *pouts* The only things I own are any original characters and this plot line...

Spoilers: Haha, okay, TV series wise: After Double Dutch and before the season finale. Basically, anything goes! You can't get more UC or AU with this story...

Dedication: To Mistee. Damnit! How could I not write this one if you yourself hadn't provided the right imagery and storytelling finesse. You started this epic thing by giving me the idea for "The Gathering Clouds" and my CBGawd is that an awesome idea! To you, I'm dedicating this first "part" and any other scene that might include Joan with CBG. I also want to dedicate this story to those beautiful people that are in charge w/ the season finale... how I love thee, let me write the ways... with this story.

Pairing: Ready for this? *drum rolls* **_Joan and_** *gasps* **_Mr. Price_**? Oh the horror! 

Author's Note: Ha! Okay... just a forewarning right here and right now, not like this story series might get read anyway b/c it's definitely NOT Joan/Adam. Yeah, I'll confess... I've gone over to the dark side and fanfic shipping wise I'm all for Joan/Price. Why? Well, mainly b/c it's more tempting AND there is absolutely no way I can compare/write against the other AMAZING Joan/Adam and Joan/CBG fics out there. So... I guess if you're looking for something different for Joan, you've found me and my current stories which will feature Mr. Gavin Price. So if this kind of pair doesn't flow right w/ you, feel free to exit said story. If you're willing to give them a try, then continue on and Enjoy the show!

Also, I'll be posting the entire series as if it's one big multi-chapter story. However, each "chapter" is really just a separate story that could have been read on its own... or at least I hope it would come off that way. Either way, it's going to be read as a multi-chapter story. Oh! And if you've read my _other_ Price/Joan story **"A Price to Pay"**, whatever background info on Price I created in _that_ story is going to be _different_ in _this one_. Since this _isn't_ a sequel, but just another Price story. Just to let you know. So yeah... enough babbling from the author. Enjoy!

_JoA~~JoA~~JoA_

_**Story #1 - The Gathering Clouds**_

Joan Girardi wished that she could blame this little outing on God. Unfortunately, just when she needed the Almighty the most, as usual, the Highness Him-- Her-- It_self_ was nowhere to be found. _"Why is that?"_ She pondered while waiting for Sammy to approach the front counter with her paycheck.

The week had flown by quickly for the young sixteen year old. There was nothing much going on both at school and her own social life... _"Or lack thereof..."_ She grumbled while recalling the past week. Most of it spent in not just surviving Lishak's chemistry lectures, but also getting through without having to puke upon the sight of Adam Rove and his "leech." 

She silently scolded herself upon thinking that way of Adam's girlfriend, Iris. However, since she was on the jealous end of their friendship, she found herself inclined to agree with most of her friend's, Grace Polk, little nicknames towards Iris. Most of which were not as kind as "the leech"... And most of which Joan had thought up herself.

"Here." Joan's boss, Sammy, interrupted her train of thought. His voice just as drone and full of bite. He handed the envelope over to the young woman as he gave a slight smirk. "Try not to spend it all in one smoothie... or whatever soy, fat-free latte drinks your generation's into these days. There's a quaint little coffee shop across the street if you're more than impatient to wait until hitting the malls."

Joan tossed him a _"Funny..." _look right before she began tearing into the envelope. Sammy watched her with quiet amusement. Mainly because he was well aware of her next reaction upon realizing that--

"Forty-eight dollars?! That's it?" She gaped up at him while he returned with a smug grin.

"Joan, really... don't act too surprised. Considering that you're barely employed. Just consider yourself lucky that I didn't have the heart to fire you, like most sane employers in the real world would have." Sammy turned towards the register just as she began glaring up at him.

"Is that the same heart you're referring to when you had insisted to your wife that her rabbit must be put to eternal sleep?" She snipped, though immediately cringed. As Joan braced herself for Sammy's verbal pink slip, he looked up at her then glanced briefly outside and returned his gaze towards her with a smirk.

Knowing that Joan hadn't driven downtown, but merely had taken the bus, Sammy snickered with, "Wow, so there _is _a God."

She stared at him, confused. He indicated with a nod of his head towards the door, from which Joan herself realized the condition outside of the Skylight Bookstore. Her face clouded with dismay upon seeing the fierce downpour. A groan escaped her lips. "I don't believe this! That weather guy said that it was suppose to rain later on in the evening! Now how am I supposed to get home?"

Joan glanced over at the clock, another groan escaping her lips upon seeing its face reading **_5:12 PM_**. She could call Kevin at the Arcadia Herald and have him pick her up, but she realized that he had a late staff meeting immediately at five fifteen. Her mother, Helen, was also at a faculty meeting that wouldn't let out until seven. Joan couldn't exactly call her father, Will, either because only God knows where his latest case was taking the Arcadia detective. Luke, who couldn't even drive, was probably at Friedman's... Grace?, Joan began ticking off possible individuals, Grace was probably engaged in Hebrew classes-- many a times the rebel protested to the young Girardi. Joan even went as far as to consider Adam, but realized that he was probably doing _something_ with-- _the Eye_. 

"There's this marvelous invention, Joan, called 'the bus.' Check it out sometime... like now?" Sammy broke through her concentration once more, indicating towards the bus parked right in front of the bench stop. 

Realizing that this was her only chance, Joan gave Sammy a weary grin before heading outside. However, just as soon as Joan stepped out of the bookstore, the public transport closed its doors and began slowly rolling away.

"Hey!" She cried out and waved her arms. Not wanting to slip, Joan hastened her steps as she made her way towards the bus stop. Unfortunately, the public vehicle never did slow down nor stop, causing the young woman to stare at it with disbelief and frustration. Joan Girardi glanced upwards. Allowing the cool, sweet water to fall onto her face, "_You_ are just the master of perfect timing!"

_JoA~~JoA_

Gavin Price wondered if maybe leaving the faculty meeting early wasn't such a good idea after all. Especially considering the conditions that had literally fallen upon him a few minutes later. The Arcadia High Vice Principal had given his colleague a feeble excuse from the meeting. Saying that he had an eye examination that same afternoon... which wasn't technically a _lie_, for he had one scheduled. However, at the last moment, _they_ had to reschedule his appointment for _next week_. Gavin just failed to mention this to Steven Chadwick, the school's Principal. _"Besides,"_ He had thought, upon quickly leaving campus. _"No sane individual, teacher or student, would want to remain at school after hours. Considering when they have an opportunity to legitimately, as the students call it, **ditch**." _However, as the clouds began to darken over the city of Arcadia, Gavin realized that maybe his little "secret" wasn't such a secret after all...

Not that he completely believed in God. He gave a quiet scoff as he momentarily parked his car in front of a coffee shop downtown. Gavin didn't consider himself a man of faith... more like someone with more practical endeavors. Sure he would admit that every once in a while he believed in the higher powers, but he didn't base his whole life around them. _"What individual would?"_ He snickered upon walking into the coffee shop, with intentions to just sit back and enjoy the afternoon of freedom.

That afternoon, however, was literally _rained_ on as soon as he sat down with his strong brew and newspaper in hand. For a while, he laid the paper aside to quietly watch the water pour from the skies. A reflective smile curved on his face, despite the harsh conditions. As a kid, he had always enjoyed rainy days. Even now, as an adult, he couldn't deny that inner child that beckoned to be caught in the downpour. Times like these, he wished that his own child, created out of love but torn from his arms due to a bitter divorce, wasn't on the opposite side of the continent. Just so that they could both enjoy the sounds and the wonderment that the tears from heaven brought. Upon thinking of his little boy, Gavin's smile disappeared and instead began to watch the bleak weather with dismay.

It was then that he saw her. At least he thought that was the young Girardi. Gavin, more infamously known as Price to his students, stood up despite himself and made his way over just to clarify his assumptions. Once a bit closer towards the shop's picture glass window, he squinted his eyes and nodded. _"Yep, that's certainly Joan Girardi alright."_ Gavin watched with soft amusement as the young woman tried to catch the rolling public transport, only to fail miserably. He quietly hoped that she'd at least hasten her steps to avoid slipping and hurting herself, to which she did but only at the cost of missing her ride. Gavin looked on as Joan glanced up and seemed to curse angrily towards the sky. It was something that he could find himself doing, which only brought a small chuckle from his lips. A thought occurred to him, one in which he found himself disbelieving over, but non the less complying to it as he reluctantly made his way out the doors.

Once he stepped out and allowed the cool, sweet water to fall upon him, did Gavin Price realize the reality of his impending actions...

_JoA~~JoA_

"Joan!"

A voice called out to her, which caused the young woman to instinctively groan with dismay. Joan assumed that once again God was calling out to her, wanting her to consider some inane "suggestion." She heard her name again, and despite it sounding familiar, it didn't help her one bit that the rain was drowning out the voice.

"Joan!" She glanced around this time, her eyes searching for a body to match that voice.

It was at that moment she saw a male figure waving his hands, beckoning her to join him. From afar, Joan couldn't quite make out the form. "He" was tall and wearing an all too familiar suit. Taking a chance, Joan made her way across the street towards him... and somewhat instantly regretted the move.

"Mr. Price?!" Her voice was certainly filled with more disbelief than she intended. Joan looked around, "What're you doing here?"

Gavin Price regarded the young woman with a weary, yet amused, look. "Apparently opening myself to catching a cold. You need a ride home?"

Despite the company, Joan allowed a relieved smile to play on her lips. She refrained the urge to hug him as she was grateful for the rescue. "Really? Thank you so much, Mr. Price! I can't believe how much the weather just sucks right now..."

Price, himself, refrained from making a comment. Instead, he began leading Joan towards his car. He opened the front passenger side for Joan and once she was safely inside, he made his way towards the driver's end. 

Once inside his black sports car, Price turned off the air condition and opted for the heater. While he was making his way out of park and onto the street, which had suddenly began opening itself to traffic, Joan wrapped her arms around herself and tried to soak up the heat. She hadn't realized how long she was standing out in the pouring rain and began fearing that she might fall ill very soon. Not that it made a difference, Joan figured, considering that meant she could have a legitimate reason _not_ to be in school. As the traffic began to swell in downtown Arcadia, Price slightly regarded the situation with dread.

He glanced at Joan, noticed her efforts to keep warm, and reached over to adjust the air panels to flow the heat directly towards her. With a soft smile, "I guess I shouldn't be the one to worry about catching a cold."

Despite herself, Joan laughed at the comment. The rain began to pour heavily outside as she began noticing herself the heavy traffic merging around them. "Wow," She observed, "I guess everyone had the same idea to leave wherever they were at and just head home."

Price nodded as he changed the speed of his windshield wipers. "The local weatherman forecasted a heavy storm to hit Arcadia as early as tomorrow afternoon. That later this evening would be just the beginning."

Bitterly, Joan remarked, "Yeah, well, the weatherman lied..."

He softly laughed before surveying the conditions. Within a moment's notice, the pair found themselves stuck in a downtown Arcadia traffic jam. Price cringed, "Crap..."

Joan quickly gave a glance at him before turning away to smile in amusement. She had heard her mother curse before, but it was a very rare opportunity to hear a school authority figure utter profanity.

Price, unaware of his cursing, continued, "Traffic looks really bad, Joan. And it looks like it's not going to let up anytime soon considering the incessant downpour." He gazed over at her to take note of her own condition. Realizing that the young woman was still trying to keep warm, Price made a decision. "Joan, you're soaking wet and no amount of heat in my car can prevent you from the threat of hypothermia. My apartment isn't too far from here. We're going to head there instead, alright? As soon as the weather, and hopefully the traffic, lightens up, I'll take you home."

Unable to disagree with his logic, nor deny the constant chill her body was already experiencing, Joan gave a simple nod of her head. She wrapped her arms tighter, savoring whatever warmth she could muster. Price took a moment to regard her before reaching towards the back of his seat. He pulled and brought out his jacket that he had brought to work, in the likely event of such downpour. Joan hardly noticed his actions until he spoke up and, with one hand, draped the jacket around her. 

"Don't you dare freeze up on me, Miss Girardi. I don't exactly feel like answering to your mother's wrath. It's bad enough I have to deal with her on a normal, everyday basis."

Despite the overwhelming cold and sudden warmth mingling with her body temperature, Joan allowed a laugh to escape her lips. She then uttered a faint thank you, to which caused Price to give a quiet smile in return.

_JoA~~JoA_

"Pardon the mess. I hardly have much company over." Price explained as he opened the door to his apartment. He allowed Joan to enter ahead of him. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she found herself regarding his place with mild amusement.

With a raised brow, "_This_ is your definition of _mess_?" Joan stared at how nearly _spotless_ his living arrangement was. Regardless of two envelopes on the counter, three magazines on the coffee table in the living room, and a lone coffee mug in the kitchen sink, Joan would have wondered if anyone lived in this apartment at all! Everything, including the remote control that was placed squarely on the 20 inch television set, had a certain "untouched" vibe upon first sight. Joan thought that an impeccably clean area like this could only be seen in her mother's dream.

He placed a hand on the small of her back and lead her further in. "As you can see, without needing a map, this is my humble little abode." Price turned his attention on Joan, who was unintentionally hugging his jacket tighter around her damp body. "For fear of pneumonia, I think we should get you out of those wet clothes. Be right back." He excused himself as he disappeared into a room on the left side of the hallway.

While he was gone, Joan took a moment to observe the little "bachelor pad." She started off gazing at the open kitchen area that was immediately to her right. It was equipped with a stove on the entrance side, a sink towards the adjacent wall, and rounding the area with a refrigerator and a wide spaced counter. Because of the absence of a dining table, she had to assume that the counter top served as such. Especially with the five bar stools seated around the area. 

Next, Joan observed his spacious living room. Her eyes first settled upon the grand picture glass window, that was currently shaded and had a seat ledge at its base. From there, Joan glanced at the rich wooden book shelves to the immediate left of the door, the angle shaped computer desk next to the shelves, one couch (opposite side of the book shelves) facing the television and another couch perpendicular to that one. He even had a small coffee table right in front of the wide furniture.

As the young woman continued to observe the apartment, Price returned with a towel and extra clothes in hand. "Joan?" She turned to face him as he gently handed her the change of clothes. "The sweatshirt might be a little big on you, but I think the pants might be just fine. Amber, my sister, always manages to leave behind some of her clothes after each visit. She drops by, from college, every now and again." He indicated towards the hall, "The bathroom is the second door to your right. You can leave your wet clothes on the top of the hamper. I'll place it in the dryer later."

Joan smiled gratefully at Price just before she headed towards the bathroom. Once she removed her damp outfit, she quickly slipped the borrowed attire and savored the warmth. She took a good look at the mirror, realizing that the gray oversized sweatshirt must belong to Price. Though it slightly sagged in the shoulder area, she was amazed at how perfectly it contoured around her body.

After drying and brushing her hair, she stepped out of the bathroom and into the halls. That's when her eyes fell upon what could only be Price's bedroom door. Curiosity got the best of the young woman when she noted that it was partly closed, with enough room to gaze inside. She tilted her head, just to take a quick peek. Joan slightly jumped upon hearing a sliding sound coming from within, though she still looked in.

From what she could observe, Price obviously kept his room in the exact condition as the rest of his apartment-- neat and organized. 

She suddenly saw his lean shadow on the wall, followed by his... _shirtless_ body. Joan found herself gaping upon the sight of this man that, before now, she had always associated him with a suit and tie. Who could have imagined that underneath the drab shirt and coat was an actual tone built body? He seemed unaware that with each upper body movement, the muscles seemed to flex, tighten even. Price walked around with an air of confidence that caused the young woman to hold her breath. She had seen him walk that way before, strolling down somewhat arrogantly down the Arcadia High halls. However, after tonight, Joan wondered if she would view that walk as anything _but_ arrogant. Forever stuck with this current image.

This was certainly a side to Price that no one else at school could possibly have known about... and that thought alone gave Joan an unexpected chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

She watched him for what could be seconds, but felt like a dozen moments. The act of Price merely slipping on a faded black shirt caused Joan's trance on him to be broken. Flustered, and certainly feeling like a Peeping Tom, she quickly headed towards the living room. She plopped herself down on the couch and quickly picked up the TV Guide just as Price entered the scene.

He made his way towards the front door and stopped in front of the thermostat. After he adjusted the room's temperature, Price turned back to the living room. His eyes landed on Joan as she was flipping through the magazine. 

Unable to help himself, he noticed how his sweatshirt seemed to reveal a bit too much of the young woman's shoulders. He knew off hand that his old sweatshirt would be a bit big on her, but he never imagined it would have a certain effect. If the clothing didn't sag to one side, it would sag on the other, or just equally reveal nothing to the imagination. The lighting in his apartment seemed to allow for her skin to illuminate youth. The straps of her bra was clearly present, which didn't fare too well for the man's eyes. Price suddenly felt like a pervert, an _old_ one at that, and began darting his eyes away from the forbidden view.

Trying to sound more concerned for her lack of _warmth_ rather than _coverage_, "Uh, Joan? Do the clothes fit okay? If not, and you're still cold, I could probably search around my closet to see if Amber left one of her sweaters behind. I had just grabbed whatever was around..."

Joan looked up at Price before taking a good once-over her outfit. She gave a sheepish smile as she shrugged, "This is okay." With one hand, out of reflex, she covered up one side of her shoulder that was revealed.

"Are-- are you sure?" He feigned a cough, still trying his best to look at any part of the young woman that wasn't her shoulders. Price silently scolded himself, realizing that he was making much ado about nothing. 

"Positive." She nodded, "I guess I just needed to get out of my wet clothes, that's all. I'm starting to feel a lot better, Mr. Price... though, thanks-- thanks for asking." Joan smiled at him with appreciation.

Price made a face before walking into the kitchen. "Joan, as of this moment, we're not in school. So if you don't mind, can you please call me anything either than 'Mr. Price'? I never realized how much that unnerves me when spoken by a student _outside_ of school grounds." With a soft laugh, "Especially considering that you're currently, what most of you kids would call, 'hanging out' in my home."

Joan looked up at him with sincere confusion, "Uh... so what should I..." She waved her hand encouragingly, prompting an answer out of him.

While placing a kettle on the stove, he turned to blink and give her a knowing smile, "Uh... I _do_ have a first name, Joan."

"Gavin?" Joan laughed, which earned a raised look from him. She feigned a cough and tried to refrain from snickering at the idea.

He looked at her, more intrigued than insulted, "And what exactly do you find humorous about my birth name?"

She held up her hands defensively. "Nothing! I mean..." With a feeble sigh, "I just think it's a little bit-- well, a bit _weird_ to call you by your first name."

Price crossed his arms and tossed her an amused smirk. "So what _are_ you going to address me as? And be warned, Miss Girardi... I do have access to your student records."

Joan gave him a thoughtful shrug, "Uh... how about 'Price'? Is that okay with you?"

Though Price was busy tending to the boiling kettle, his attention hadn't strayed from conversation. He gave a nod of his head, "That's just fine with me."

While he was moving about in the kitchen, Joan stood up and moved towards the other couch nearest to the glass window. She gently parted the shades and softly gasped at the sight of the rain cascading right in front of her. Never had Joan seen such a downpour since her family moved to Arcadia so many months before. 

At the thought of her family, Joan remembered that she needed to call home, for fear of her parents fretting over her whereabouts. If there was anything she could do without, it would have to be a long lecture from the parental units. Joan was lost in thought over how to explain the situation that she was slightly caught off guard by Price's sudden presence.

"Joan?" The young woman looked over to her side, startled. She first gazed up at Price, standing next to her, then at the stemming beverage he was holding out to her. Joan uttered a soft _"Oh."_ and an even softer _"thank you"_ as she took the mug from him. Both her eyes and her lips were smiling kindly at Price before she was hit with a familiar aroma. It was a sweet smell that instantly reminded Joan of her childhood during cold winter nights. 

She looked down at her drink and a child-like grin swept over her face. Looking up at Price then back at the beverage. "You made hot chocolate?"

He gave her a neutral expression, though half-smile peeked through. "Would you prefer herbal tea instead?"

"No!" Joan insisted, holding the mug closer to her.

Price laughed, his eyes twinkling mischievously at the young woman. He walked away from her and back towards the kitchen. As he placed his own cup of hot chocolate on the counter, he began opening up his cabinets until he found what he was looking for.

Joan regarded him with curiosity. She moved back to the other couch, watching him with a small smile. "What're you doing?"

Without saying a word, he pulled out an unopened bag of marshmallows. He held the bag out, playfully waving it at her. Price bit back a laugh as he watched Joan's eyes light up instantly. 

Holding both his drink and the bag of marshmallows, Price started walking back to the living room. Joan moved further to the side to allow room for Price to sit down on the couch with her. Just as she was placing her drink on the coffee table, Price followed suit with his own mug. Joan watched him as he began opening the bag, a smile playing on her lips. 

Suddenly he paused, the bag still sealed tight. Price gave a slight frown, which caused Joan to start worrying herself. "What's wrong?" She asked.

He gave her a concerned look, "I know I've forgotten something... I just can't figure out _what_?..."

"Well," Joan observed, somewhat practically. "Why don't you open that bag up and while we're enjoying the hot cocoa, you might remember?"

Price tossed her a small reproaching glance, which caused her to sheepishly apologize.

"What? My hot chocolate's getting cold! And I don't want to drink it knowing that I could be drowning it with fluffy marshmallows." Joan pouted in such a way that Price himself couldn't resist laughing over.

Finally opening the bag, he placed it on the table, right in front of Joan. He watched as her hand darted inside to grab a handful of marshmallows, place half of it inside of her cup and the other half inside of her mouth. This amused Price to no end as Joan looked up at him, confused. With her mouth full, she replied with a muffled "What?" that only caused him to laugh and shake his head at her.

Grinning fondly, "You are just as worst as Devon."

After she swallowed the marshmallows in her mouth by taking a sip of her drink, "Devon?"

The bright smile on Price's face quickly softened to a reflective manner. He gave a small nod, his eyes refusing to meet hers. He gave a quiet gulp and started tracing his fingers along the mug's handle. In a hush tone, "Uh... Devon... my son..."

Joan watched as he picked up the mug and began taking slow sips. She didn't press him to explain, instead just patiently waited for him to say anything. Silence soon fell upon them until the only sounds Joan heard were the rhythmic patterns of the rain and the mellow humming of the apartment's electricity flowing. She would be perfectly content with such sounds if she wasn't feeling so uncomfortable with quietness that came with it. 

Finally, knowing that she wasn't going to get a word out of Price's sudden evasive nature, "I-- I should call my mom." With a laugh that she hoped didn't sound too forced, "Before she starts commanding my dad into sending out the FBI or something..." Joan slowly stood up, her movements somewhat startling Price. 

He watched her walk over to her bag that she had earlier left on one of the kitchen's bar stools. As she began dialing her cell phone, Price allowed a small sigh of relief, for he was thankful that at least one of them was brave enough to break that awkward silence. He too got up, suddenly remembering what he had been meaning to do. Without a word to Joan, Price disappeared down the hall for a few minutes.

When Price returned, after placing Joan's wet clothes into the machine dryer, he found the young woman pacing and quietly arguing with her phone. Upon hearing his footsteps, she looked up with a relieved smile. To her cell, "Oh! Here's Pri-- uhm, Mr. Price, mom." To Price himself, Joan softly pleaded, "Can you talk to her, please? For some reason, that I'm afraid I could-- _God_ only knows-- somewhat be responsible for, she doesn't believe me..."

Price took the phone from her, allowing a chuckle out of his system before talking to his colleague. "Helen?... Yes, it's me... Yes, Joan's really here with me... She's-- she's-- Helen!..." He gave a slight lip tight smile before glancing at Joan, who was giving him an anxious, expected look. Placing a hand over the cell, to Joan, "So _she's_ where you get your rambling personality from?..." Back to the phone, "Mrs. Girardi, relax..."

Despite being grateful for Price handling her mother's overprotective nature, Joan gave a haughty glare over that comment. She quickly got over it once she heard Price's end of the conversation.

"Joan is _fine_... look, as she probably explained to you, she had gotten caught in the storm with nowhere to go and-- and I offered to look out for her until the weather calms down... yes, Helen, she's _all right_. Just like any concerned parent, I didn't want her to catch pneumonia and since she was nearly freezing to death-- and that's a figure of speech, Helen, so relax-- I thought the most practical thing would be is to take Joan to my place to warm up. Traffic was completely backed up and you know that I live in town, so naturally such course of action is logical. Especially since Joan's health was on the line... Yes, Helen, she's _really okay_..." Price laughed, quietly wondering if he had ever been this bad with his own son. 

"So we're just-- _hanging out_ here for a while until the storm calms down... as soon as possible, Helen... no, no it's not any sort of inconvenience... I don't mind... yes, _really_." He glanced over at Joan, tossing her a sincere smile, "She's actually proving to be very good company... you're welcome, Helen... sure. Here she is."

Joan took a breath before accepting the phone back from Price. She began listening to her mother, who was surprisingly a lot calmer than before. "... _Yes_, mom. I'm feeling a lot better now..." She too gave Price, who was now sitting on the couch, a sincere grin. "Mr. Price is taking very good care of me... okay... Yes, as soon as the rain lets up... okay..." Upon hearing her mother utter that special three word phrase, Joan couldn't help but smile softly. "I love you too. See you soon, mom... bye..."

"Everything's okay?" He asked her while momentarily standing up to walk towards the window. As Price, with his back facing her, observed the weather's condition, Joan quietly nodded. She looked up at him, recalling a conversation between them towards the beginning of the school year, and verbalized her nod.

"I-- I mean, _yes_. Everything's fine..."

Price laughed softly, turning to face her as he returned back to his spot on the couch. Giving her a reassuring smile, "Joan, I saw your reflection in the window, so I saw you nod."

"Oh." She gave a small laugh herself before tossing her cell phone back in her bag and returning to her place on the couch, next to Price.

Indicating outside, "As if the sound itself wasn't obvious, it's still raining pretty hard and it looks like it might last for a few more hours." Price looked up at his wall clock, noting that the time was nearly approaching quarter to the seven o'clock hour. He was silently surprised by how quickly the time had gone by. Gazing over at the young Girardi, "Are you hungry, Joan? I can make you a sandwich or some soup, if you want..."

Joan gently shook her head, "No, thanks..." Grasping her cup of chocolate, "This will be fine."

A silence fell over them once more, though not as anxious and tense. Price regarded Joan before suggesting, "Do you want to see if there's a movie on television tonight?" He got up to retrieve the remote control, while Joan once more reached for the TV Guide.

She absently flipped through the magazine, "Sure... so what do you usually watch on a Friday night?"

He gave her a light smirk, "Is it that obvious that I don't have a life outside of Arcadia High?"

Joan would have normally fumbled for an apology for such a disregard. However, she had luckily caught the teasing glint in his eyes. Returning the mischievous look, "Well, I actually like to believe that once students leave campus, the faculty head back to their designated crypts until the next school day when they're truly needed. My mother being an obvious exception..."

Price tossed her a slight smirk before he settled himself against the couch and switched on the television. He began flipping through the channels just as Joan was thumbing through the TV Guide. The channel surfing momentarily came to a halt upon reaching the USA Network. Joan hardly noticed, due to her gaze closely on the TV schedule, as Price tried to recall if he had seen this particular rerun of _Law & Order: SVU_. 

Upon hearing the gunshots coming from the television show, Joan took a startled glance at the TV. Noticing the channel logo on the bottom right, she gave a soft laugh. "What is it with guys and the USA Network?"

"Excuse me?" He looked over at Joan, surprised by her questioning observation.

"One time," Joan began, "My dad took off work one whole weekend just so that he wouldn't miss this _mobster_ movie marathon on USA. From the complete _Godfather_ trilogy, _Goodfellas_, _The Last Don_..."

Price would have come off sounding thoughtful and sincere-- had he not cracked up with laughter upon saying, "You know, Joan, I think I caught that marathon..."

Joan slightly rolled her eyes, despite smiling along with Price, who was merely poking fun at her expense. She resisted the urge to pick up a pillow and smack him with it. "You go ahead and laugh... I'm just saying..." 

Joan returned her attention back to the printed schedule just as Price held his hand out. "May I?" While he took the TV Guide off her hands, Joan took this moment to excuse herself to the bathroom. As soon as she returned, she noticed that the channel had switched and that Price was currently in the kitchen.

Recognizing the station, "AMC? What movie are we watching?" Joan settled back onto the couch. She placed her feet up and slightly leaned against her hand, elbow propped on the armrest. The young woman gazed over towards the kitchen area and began watching Price, who was in the process of making popcorn. 

As he placed the popcorn bag into the microwave, that was on the top corner shelf next to the stove, "Ever heard of the Stephen King movie _The Shawshank Redemption_? With Morgan Freeman and Tim Robbins?"

Giving him an unsure, yet honest response, "Sounds familiar... is it scary? I mean, when you hear Stephen King you think--"

While waiting for the popcorn, Price began explaining, "Horror genre? _The Shawshank Redemption_ isn't one of those movies, Joan. There's a reason that AMC, which undoubtedly stands for _American Movie Classics_, is playing this particular King film."

Joan gave him a shrug, "If you say so... " Her attention on the screen, watching the end credits of the previous film that she hardly noticed as a small yawn escaped her lips. 

When Price joined her in the living room, the familiar sounds of popping actively bursting in the kitchen, the beginning scene of _The Shawshank Redemption _had just started. He glanced over at Joan and noticed that while her eyes were on the television, there was something in her form, slouching on the furniture, that indicated that she was well on her way towards slumbering. Price smiled knowingly, though he didn't say anything as he sat himself on the opposite side of the couch next to her. 

Soon enough, as he predicted, while Robbins's character, Andy Dufresne, was currently asking Freeman's Red Redding for a rock hammer, Joan Girardi was fast asleep on her end of the couch. Her body had stretched itself a bit more, her head nestled in her arms that had settled on the armrest. Price had no idea what was more interesting to watch, this young woman snoring softly beside him or the movie itself.

With the popcorn and movie momentarily forgotten, Price regarded Joan and wondered if he should wake her up and take her home. He got up and began walking towards the window, realizing that the rhythmic patter of rain had changed. Pulling the shades aside, he saw to his amazement that, within the short time that passed, the storm had pulled back to allow quieter showers. He looked back over at Joan's sleeping form and he knew that he had to wake her, as much as he was _certainly_ looking forward towards whatever grumpy attitude she'll display.

"Joan? Joan, wake up... It's not raining as hard, so you know what that means." Lightly, he began nudging her arms. He would have shaken her on the shoulders, but was shortly reminded of his earlier thoughts, and decided to refrain from touching the exposed skin. His voice a bit more stern, "Miss Girardi... _Joan_. C'mon... I'm going to take you home now." He softened his tone, solemnly, "Joan, you can't stay here... _I _can't let you stay here... so, please, wake up now... Joan..."

Joan didn't hear his quiet pleas. Her slumbering form shrugged him off as a soft protesting groan escaped her lips. She nestled further into the couch, which only indicated to Price that she wasn't moving anytime soon.

Allowing a frustrated sigh, he began wondering what in the world had he gotten himself into? He knew that most obvious course of action would be to call her parents and have one of them, preferably her father, pick Joan up. Price glanced at the watch, noting that it was twenty minutes pass the seven o'clock hour. He stood up to retrieve his cordless phone when the sounds of the rain distracted him from the task at hand. In disbelief, he walked back over to the window to see that he had only caught just the mere eye of the storm, for the fierce downpour returned once more.

"Damnit..." He uttered softly, watching the rainy conditions before him. It especially didn't ease his situation upon hearing the familiar sounds of sirens within the downtown area. With his current strain of luck, Price had a feeling that Joan's father, Detective Will Girardi, was probably where the action was. 

He unintentionally glanced upwards with a tight smile. To no one in particular, "Now what?" Price looked back over at Joan, who was still of dreaming whatever adolescents dream of these days. He crossed his arms and watched her until an idea came to mind. 

It was a thought that had first come to his mind but, because of the reality of Joan being a student and he being her Vice Principal, Price had pushed that thought away. Realizing that he had no other options left, he reluctantly made his way over to the young woman. He took a breath before leaning over and gently began placing her in his arms. The last time he had carried someone to bed, it was his son. There certainly was a difference between an eight year old child and a sixteen year old teenager.

Despite all ethical codes he had instilled within, Price began imprinting this moment into his memory. The silk softness of her hair, the gentle way she breathed, the intoxicating smell of her youth... all pressed against him, giving Price feelings that fought with his common sense. Forcing every once of control and pride, despite the alarm in the back of his mind, Price disregarded the fueling emotions.

He carried her into his bedroom and gently laid her down. With care, he placed the blanket over her and began tucking her in. Price sat himself on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving the sight of her. He propped the pillows a bit as he noticed a part of her hair falling over her face. Softly, he reached over and brushed it back, though nearly startled upon his hand touching upon her cool skin. He regarded her for a bit before getting up and turning off the lights and closing the door behind him.

Price began shaking his head, still wondering what in the world he was getting himself into. After checking his rolodex, and picking up his cordless phone from the kitchen counter, he began dialing a number. 

"Hello? Helen, it's me, Gavin Price..."

_JoA~~JoA_

_Pancakes_... That was Joan's first thought upon slowly waking up. Her eyes fluttered open, a smile on her face. She could feel her stomach growl, and more so upon realizing that she wasn't just dreaming of pancakes.. she was actually _smelling_ the familiar aroma that was currently making its way into her room--

Joan sat up, startled upon realizing that she _wasn't_ in her bedroom, nor was she in her own bed! She gazed around the room and all memories of last night came flooding to her. As she regarded the fact that she must be in Mr. Price's bed-- where had Price himself slept last night? 

Her eyes gazed over to the bedroom window and, despite the awkward situation, smiled upon seeing the sun's rays bursting through. From what she could see, the sky was still partly cloudy, though the sun managed to brilliantly shine to welcome the day. 

Joan glanced over at the small stand next to his bed, noticing not just the picture frame of, what she could assume, Price and his son, but also a hand written note. Seeing her name on it, she picked it up and began reading. 

_Joan: Stepped out for a moment to run an errand. I'll be back momentarily. There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom mirror cabinet. I'll see you soon. --Price_

She smiled at the note before gently placing it back on the night stand. Hearing plates being clattered from the kitchen, Joan realized that he must have left earlier because it certainly sounds like he's back. Joan stood up, stretching a bit before making her way out towards the bathroom. A moment later, she exited the bathroom and walked into the hallway. She was instantly hit with the all too beckoning smell of warm pancakes.

Her first sight upon arriving in the open kitchen area, as she sat herself down on one of the bar stools, was of Price tending to the stove. She quietly watched him, propping her head on her crossed arms as she placed them on the counter. A smile never left her face as she softly called out to him, not wanting to startle the man. "Good morning."

Price perked his head up, though his attention was focused on the breakfast at hand. He turned his head slightly to toss her a grin, "Morning, young Miss." Turning his gaze back to the frying pan, "I called your mother last night, to let her know that you had fallen into a deep slumber. I would have used the phrase 'dead asleep' but I wouldn't want to give the poor woman a heart attack. Suggested that you stay the night while I took the couch and that after breakfast, I'll drop you home."

Surprised by this, "And she agreed?"

He nodded, "Surprising, huh? Well, considering that the storm had gotten a bit worst throughout the night. I had asked her that if she was uncomfortable with the idea that she send your father over, but she had informed me that he was called out late to attend to this horrible traffic accident. Not to far from here actually... which explains the sirens I heard last night."

"How bad was the accident?"

Price shrugged sadly, "No idea, Joan..."

A comfortable silence soon fell before them before Joan spoke up. Completely amused by the sight before her, "Wow... this is, like, Twilight Zone weird. Mr. Price can cook breakfast..."

He softly laughed before smirking at her. "Yes, amazing isn't it? I can also rub my stomach and pat my head at the same time, but I'm afraid it might disrupt the cooking process." Price turned his gaze back to Joan, "Well? Are you going to sit there making fun of me or would you care to actually help set the table?"

"How about I do both?" She grinned, getting up and joining him in the kitchen area.

"How about I remind you of the phrase 'Biting the hand that feeds you'... literally." He returned the grin.

While Joan attended to setting up the plates and silverware, a small thought came to mind. With a small laugh, "Huh, no one would believe me if I were to tell them that Mr. Price actually lives like a regular human being... I mean," She glanced over at Price, who was giving her this raised look. Explaining herself a bit more, "Everyone knows you as this high school authority figure. They've seen you hand out detention slips! Not _hot chocolate _or_ pancakes_! I mean, what would they think if they knew what happened last night?"

He stayed reflectively quiet as thoughts of last night struggled in his mind. Finally, "Questions and assumptions, Joan." Price began, his voice solemn. He turned to face her, his gaze somewhat hard and concerned, "There would be questions against my better known judgment and assumptions that could very well tarnish a young girl's reputation." With what Joan could guess was a sad smile, "So I'm right to assume that other than your own parents, the events of last night to this morning stays between us?"

Joan herself returned the smile as she nodded, "Yeah..."

Price gave a nod himself before turning back to his cooking. Softly, "Well," He turned the stove off, placing the last batch of hot stacks on the platter. Price faced Joan again, his smile warm, "Let's eat."

_JoA~~JoA_

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" He asked with his voice light, yet stern. Price gazed off the road to look upon the young woman as she attempted to tune the radio.

Joan's face was scrunched in annoyance, "Why are you listening to old people music?" She asked in regards to the classic R&B Motown station Price had set the station on.

He took a moment to stare at her, stunned. "Since when is The Temptation's _Ain't Too Proud to Beg_ considered as 'old people music'? Honestly, your generation is being brainwashed by MTV."

She began to laugh, "Oh my God! You do realize that you just sounded like Grace Polk."

Now it was Price's turn to scrunch his face in annoyance. "And here I was having a good morning..."

After their breakfast together, which was spent with Price explaining the basic summary of the King movie she slept through last night, and after Joan had changed back into her original, and dry, clothes; they had ventured out on the long drive towards Joan's house.

Though the sky still held an ominous tone of future storms to come, at the moment, with the sun smiling brightly, it seemed like a perfect Saturday morning in Arcadia. Which made the drive for the pair more enjoyable, if not only because of the current bickering they found themselves in.

"Joan..." Price warned somewhat seriously as he caught the young woman once more attempting to change his music.

"C'mon, Price. Live a little!" She giggled before finding the hit music station she was looking for. "Ha! Bingo!" Joan clapped before moving her upper body to the current beat of No Doubt.

Price regarded her with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "We are not listening to this..." He reached over, changing the radio back to his set station.

"Hey!" Joan protested, reaching over to switch it back.

"Joan..." He rolled his eyes, despite the smile that played on his lips, and turned the station. "My car... my music."

She looked at him, a bit frustrated despite smiling. "You're being a complete old timer, here." With a haughty smirk, reached for the radio dial once more.

Disregarding the fact that she changed the music, he returned the smirk as he replied to her insult, "And you're acting like a complete juvenile." 

Realizing the names they've just tossed at each other, not to mention the truth behind the words, Price and Joan shared a look that resulted in each a smile. Price turned his attention back towards the road, while Joan gazed outside at the moving scenery. Despite the music playing, a comfortable silence fell upon them. It was a type of quiet that was without unease, without pressure to speak. Just of two people whom have seemed to surpass needed words to express how content they are being in the other's company.

Upon pulling into Euclid Street, Price gazed over at Joan and noticed the worried look on her face. Concerned, "Joan? What's wrong?"

His voice woke her up from her plaguing thoughts. She glanced at him and gave him a small smile as she silently shook her head. 

Her reply wasn't exactly what he was looking for, but he decided to give her the same respect from last night and not press her for the real truth.

The silence still held between them as he finally pulled up in front of her two story house. Price looked over at her just as she turned to face him. 

Beaming at him sincerely, "Thank you. Thank you for..." Joan trailed off, no real idea on what to thank him for, mainly because there were so much. 

She was relieved when he gave her the same smile and replied with a simple, "You're welcome, Miss Girardi." The look in his eyes revealed that he knew why Joan couldn't express what she needed to say, and for that look alone Joan felt more at ease.

Joan clutched her bag, got out of the car, but not before taking a pause to turn back and face him. Somewhat hesitant despite herself, "Y'know, earlier, when you asked if something was wrong?"

"Yes?"

With a shy smile and a soft shrug, before exiting the vehicle, "Nothing was _wrong_... I-- I was just actually wondering why... why it felt like the exact _opposite_."

_JoA~~JoA_

Joan Girardi rushed up onto the porch steps, perplexed and wondering why she had said that to Price. Thoughts of the past hours flew through her mind, stirring up all sorts of emotions that a part of herself just couldn't deal with right now. The young woman shook her head, deciding not to make a big deal out of it. After all, what are the odds that something like last night would happen again? Joan just chalked it up as an experience that she was momentarily caught up in. A good distraction from her otherwise already complicated life.

As she entered inside, a sudden urge flooded over her. Hearing her family in the dining room, she smiled as she called out to them, "Hey! I'm home! Anyone up for watching a Stephen King movie with me?"

_JoA~~JoA_

Gavin Price watched the young woman rush up and into her house, perplexed and wondering what she meant by her words. Thoughts of the past hours flew through his mind, stirring up emotions that he had fought earlier last night, feelings that he just couldn't deal with right now. He shook his head, deciding once more not to make a big deal out of it. After all, what are the odds that something like last night would happen again? Gavin chalked it up as an experience that he was momentarily caught up in. A good distraction from his otherwise simple life.

As he drove away, he realized that he had forgotten to change the radio station back to his Motown music. He reached over to press the set button when his ears perked up to a song with some interesting lyrics.
    
    
    _How the hell did we wind up like this... Why weren't we able... _
    _To see the signs that we missed... And try to turn the tables... _
    _Now the story's played out like this... Just like a paperback novel... _
    _Lets rewrite an ending that fits... Instead of a hollywood horror..._
    

Price found himself enjoying the song. With a slight shrug, he decided to give the music station a chance. After all, what harm could come from the change?

**THE END**

_JoA~~JoA~~JoA_

Final Author's Note: Okay... I kinda know what you're thinking; _"WTH?! Joan & Price?! Joan with someone other than her true sweetheart Adam Rove?!"_

Thus is the otherwise appeal to this story and this particular ship. If you're reading this part, I'm guessing you had decided to try and give this story and this ship some kind of chance. I'm still all about Joan/Adam canon wise, but this is fanfiction where anything is possible. I'm not looking to convert (though, heh, I know I already converted _one_ *smiles knowingly*) just giving others out there one of many options. 

Hope you enjoyed this part of my **Sweet Water Falling **series because there's going to be more... as if I hadn't obviously set that up towards the end. Feel free to review and even flame if you found this story offensive. Personally, no flames will stop me from UC shipping Joan w/ Price nor will it stop me from writing the rest of this series with no audience to read it.

Until the next part of the SWF series... Thank you for reading and Have a Great morning, afternoon and evening!


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